


a soul for coffee, my heart for the domino's delivery boy

by the_word_chemist



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bang Chan is a Sweetheart, Coffee Shops, Fluff and Crack, I hope you like it!, Kim Woojin is Whipped, M/M, Miscommunication, Phone numbers, Second-Hand Embarrassment, adding the rest of the gang when they appear, byebye! please read! even if you dont i love you and hope you have a great day!, dads, dominos, dont worry its like really really minor, dont worry though! its just recycled and o l d, i hope this kinda seems like theyre attracted to each other?, i wrote this a while ago but then lost motivation cause depression yknow?, ill add tags as we go, im also Very aromantic and asexual so like, im relying so much on tropes you have no clue, its just super self indulgent, its kinda crack lets be real, maybe these tags entertained you idk, maybe theyll just end up really good friends who knows, napkins, now for the vague ones lol, oh yeah i made jisung blind, okieeeee thats all lol, representation doesn’t need a reason, there wasn’t a reason i just wanted to, this is so lowstakes its kinda sad lmao, uhhhh so this probably sounds stolen, uhhhh what was i doing here? oh right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22459948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_word_chemist/pseuds/the_word_chemist
Summary: Sleep is irrelevant, Woojin needs coffee, and Jisung knows a guy.alternatively; in which woojin is sleep deprived, chris is sleep deprived, i am sleep deprived, and there's gay coffee somewhere in the mix.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Kim Woojin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	1. the shitshow begin!

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhh so this fic is really dumb but she's my baby and i love her please like it ig?? i'd love any comments you could possibly scrounge up lol, tysm for giving me the time of day! <33333

Kim Woojin was exhausted in every sense of the word. He’d spent the past seventy-two hours speed-drafting his music history paper, emailing professors, and practicing for the conservatory choir’s upcoming performance. While he’d been well aware that pursuing a phD in vocal performance wouldn’t be a piece of cake, he’d hoped it might at least be something he’d truly enjoy every second of his life. Of course he loved singing and would never choose another pathway, but there is only so much a college student can handle before burning out. He needed time to rest and recharge, but his peers set a brutal pace in the classroom and he couldn’t blame them. Woojin’s university had a reputation for turning out the best musicians possible and the competition within the program left students no room for anything but unwavering, rapid advancement in skill. He was so _tired_.

And apparently, coffee was the would-be solution, and like that he found himself at a shop by the name of ‘Chan’s Kitchen’ two hours before his eight a.m. on a Wednesday.

His commute to the city had done nothing but serve exhaust him more. He had tried napping but got interrupted each time he nearly drifted off; first it was the ticket collector who couldn’t be fucked to just check the ticket while he napped. An excited little kid wobbled up to him next and just wanted to know why his hair was so red, then proceeded to ask twenty more questions before an apologetic mother pulled him away. Some high school senior swore up and down to his friend that Woojin was some high school teacher (“Mr. Park? Is that you?” “Shut _up_ you blind bitch, he’s asleep!”) and got what sounded like a hard whack to the arm in return. He handed his seat to an older woman when she boarded looking right about to fall over, the train rumbling along its winding way on the old tracks. He had to accept his fate when the station came into view in his drowsy gaze, and he dragged his sleepless feet until he was on the platform with no clue where he was going. 

Hiking his messenger bag a little higher on his shoulder, Woojin escaped the nip of November air and tried to warm his hands inside the station. After recalling his friends’ shitty directions to the new coffee shop he had to visit, he started his trek across the street. It really shouldn’t have felt like such an important walk, but something like a cosmic alarm kept going off in his head saying it was a special day. He’d never been to the café but he felt some kind of lasso on his soul, tugging him towards the little building. Music almost flooded the street leading up to the shop, captivating the college student through a marvellously simple beat and cozy voice. 

Whatever it was that urged him forward, Woojin would sooner call this feeling his crackpot compass over some stupidly poetic term Jisung churned out when he got wasted and inevitably crashed on the elder’s couch. He found he suddenly couldn’t care less about his own thoughts when the bell on the door jingled and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

The café was surprisingly empty for a Wednesday morning, but that still didn’t mean he was the only one in line. Waiting to place his order, the student pulled out his phone and started scrolling through some social media app, someone tapping out a pattern he vaguely recognized as morse code. He stepped up to the counter, not looking up for a second and nearly missing his turn. 

“Hi, how may I help you sir?

“Hi, can I get a–” Woojin cut himself off when he glanced up. “Um. Hi?” 

_Ah, I see it’s a ‘forget-the-whole-English-language’ kind of day._

The barista flicked his eyes up, staring at Woojin for a solid ten seconds before sort of shaking his head to clear his vision. “Hello? Are you okay?” 

Woojin blinked a few times and grinned sheepishly at the tired boy in front of him. “Sorry, I kinda just forgot what words were for a second there. It’s still too early to be awake.”

The barista with a name tag that read ‘Hi, my name is: Chris!’ in cherry red letters grimaced and set his hands on the counter. His shoulders release some tension when he saw Woojin was the last customer left, relaxing from the lack of morning rush. “Yeah, it really is. You wouldn’t expect a city to even wake up this early, huh?” 

“Wishful thinking in this city, wouldn’t you say?” Woojin chuckled and scanned the boards across from him. “Say, what drink would you consider to have an obscene amount of caffeine? I haven’t slept in 72 hours and need to be awake for 24 more,” he added. He wasn’t afraid to look too desperate for his degree’s sake.

Chris tapped his chin in mock-consideration, coming to an obvious conclusion in his head before glancing back at Woojin with a gleam he could only describe as devious in his eye. “I have an idea, but it’s not a drink we serve here. Mind if I just write it up as a peppermint latte?” His hands were already flying across the register, having decided Woojin’s fate himself.

“Uh, sure–”

“A name for the order?”

“Woojin,” Woojin said, ready to spell it out when–

“Great! That’ll be $3.95, feel free to crash in the lounge while you wait,” he said sweetly, feigned innocence dripping from his tone. Right, Chris was also Korean. He’d figure it out.

Woojin opted to just drop his bag down on a chair in the corner of the store before heading right back to the counter that barely separated customers from the machines. Spotting the red ears that hadn't disappeared since he spoke first to the barista, the college student let himself follow along as his cup was filled halfway with pure espresso. As the cup filled, Chris measured out little cups of crushed peppermint, chocolate flakes, caffeinated syrup; it wasn’t clear what he was doing but the barista moved with such purpose Woojin didn’t have the slightest inkling to question what he was doing.

“So, come here often?”

Woojin looked up in amusement as he watched Chan’s pale face turn beet red and disappear behind the espresso machine.

“I’m sorry, I have like, zero brain-to-mouth filter before noon, it’s even worse when I haven’t slept in weeks, and you look really pretty but I can’t tell if you’re around my age or just a very young looking dad, and I wanted to use some kind of pick up line but my fried monkey brain likes embarrassing me and–” 

Chris looked more and more mortified with each word while Woojin finally broke and giggled until he fell nearly to the floor in his mirth. “Slow down, I’m not going anywhere,” he got out between gasps to catch his breath. 

The barista rolled his eyes and turned around, pretending to ignore his customer. _Real smooth, Chan, how about next time you just ask him to move in and adopt a cat with you?_ Actually that didn’t seem like too terrible an idea...

With a huff (and the realization that, in fact, asking a stranger to adopt a cat together could be catastrophic), Chan busied himself with mixing the peppermint and chocolate with a few teaspoons of sugar, finally pouring an excessive amount of caffeine disguised as coffee on top and stirring. His ears flared brighter than the crushed peppermint while Woojin stayed crouching, face breaking from laughter. Mixing in some creamer to the sound of dying giggles, he willed himself to diminish his blush and focused on pouring out a good sample size.

Chris cleared his throat. “Anyway. You live around here?”

Woojin answered from the floor. “Yeah, I have an apartment a few towns over. I go to university here, vocal performance degree. Do you live here?”

“Yeah! I live on campus though, at the same school. I’m too broke to split rent,” he chattered to the low rumble of machinery in the background. “I’m in the composition track but I managed to do my bachelor’s in three years so I’m going for my doctorate right now.”

“Damn, that’s impressive,” Woojin exclaimed. He hasn't gotten up from the floor so Chris was okay with letting him take a half nap. “That’s probably why I’ve never met you though, you’re around a year below me, I assume?”

Chris shrugged, making a random noise in his throat when he realized the other couldn’t see him. He mutters, “I guess that answers if you’re a hot dad or just a college kid,” and that sets Woojin off into another fit of laughter. Obviously, that wasn’t the most magical laugh he’d ever heard. Chris wouldn’t be lying if he said he didn’t care if he never heard it again. Of course not!

“Oi, clown, get up, I want you to try this!” Maybe that wasn’t the smoothest he could’ve been but it caught the man’s attention.

Woojin’s gaze became one of interest as he took the tiny cup from Chris and sipping it carefully. His eyes widened and they almost sparkled when he looked back to Chris. “Damn that sure wakes you up,” he giggled, still a little giddy from the barista’s earlier speech disaster. “It tastes really good! I didn’t know you were even allowed to give samples like this.”

“Oh, it’s so not allowed,” Chan grinned as Woojin, in obvious fear, nearly spit out the second sip he took. “I didn’t want to give you an experimental drink on the way to uni that tastes like garbage, that would suck complete whale dick. Consider it the perks of catching a barista’s eye,” he added, not truly absorbing what he’d said until it was too late. He ignored his burning ears and finished off the coffee with a mocha syrup that may or may not have only served to add even more caffeine. 

The smile on his face dimmed a bit when he realized he wouldn’t be able to carry this conversation on forever. This guy was leaving and likely never coming back, seeing as Chan had never met him before. He remembers _everyone_ , he could say this much with absolute certainty. In the few seconds it took to cap the drink, Chan’s insomnia-addled brain came up with what it thought was possibly the most genius idea ever. He’d write his phone number on a napkin! That never went wrong (except for when it did) and he could at least say he tried even if the guy never texted him. And Woojin looked smart and responsible, surely he could handle the number-on-the-napkin trick with ease–

Chan looked up just in time to watch Woojin, who was now the only other person left in the café, let out a slew of curses and look around as he dropped ten straws, sheepishly grinning at Chan as he put them back.

_Maybe I better write the number on a few napkins. Just in case._

Scribbling down the same number on four different napkins, the last 0 ending with a line following a path off the paper as Chan nearly fell asleep writing the numbers. Damn, he was tired. He stifled a yawn behind his hand as Woojin made his way back to the counter, thankfully only carrying one straw this time. 

“Anything to eat, Woojin?” Chan’s eyes drooped a little as he struggled to maintain his cheery disposition. His exhaustion was hitting him like a truck all of a sudden and he was not impressed.

The elder looked at the pastries for a few seconds before deciding on three croissants, and paid while Chan grabbed the crescents. Stuffing a paper bag with the food for Woojin’s “kids” and the napkins, Chan found it in him to tease the man a little before inevitably losing him again. “And here I was so sure that you weren’t a dad! You shouldn’t lead people on like that Woojin, that’s so rude!”

Woojin sputtered like a dying car engine, making Chan giggle as he grabbed a yellowing receipt from their decrepit machine and handed it over with the bag. “They’re just my friends! You can’t tell me you’re not a dad friend, you totally have the vibes for it.”

“You’re not wrong,” Chan mused, hand fiddling with a curl in his hair while he tried his best to stall. “I have a few assorted gremlins I don’t exactly remember adopting, but I’d say I’m a mom friend before anything else.”

“I can definitely see that,” Woojin chuckled, and motioned to the door. “I gotta jet, but it was really nice talking to you! I hope we meet again,” he added earnestly. 

Chan smiled, muttering, “what year is it, 2003?” loud enough to elicit a scoff from his victim. “It was nice meeting you too, I’d check your napkins later if I were you. Now shoo! You’re taking up too much space in my shop!” He clicked his tongue, driving a baffled Woojin out the door with wild hand gestures.

Chan glanced at the time, finding that he was free to leave the moment Melvin walked in the door, and sighed as he began his wait for a text.


	2. and so, chaos reigns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so uhhh this has the exact amount of chaotic energy i wanted it to have (maybe not enough but like whatever it's gotta be a little serious to do that plot thing) and like  
> woojin -> tired dad lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess i never addressed this since i was having severe writer's block all year: I'm very aware that Woojin isn't in skz anymore. I know he's still in our hearts, and honestly I know I'm never gonna consider him other, but I'm not delusional. I still love him to pieces and probably will never stop writing him as a character but I still hope he's doing what makes him happy and he'll live his whole life with peace and prosperity. An absolute angel, that man.

Still reasonably baffled from his café encounter, Woojin came to a full stop with one foot in the theory classroom, bag in hand and coffee still almost full. He found that Chris gifted him with what every college student craves; free shit. The receipt stated, from what he could tell, that Woojin was charged for the equivalent of a venti peppermint latte, when the man knew from countless coffee runs that the cup he held was in no possible way the smallest size offered by any shop. He had essentially received a second drink for free.

A coffee shop angel. The title seemed only fitting, after having nearly made the singer cry tears of joy at eight in the morning, but Woojin didn’t have time to linger on the thought. He had his coffee and enough food to hold off the raccoons he called companions for about two minutes; that had to be enough. He’d consider whatever happened in that alternate plane of existence after class.

Close to a quarter done with his drink now, Woojin flopped into his normal seat and ignored the wail that sounded from the flailing lump underneath him. “Hush, little one, I bring sustenance,” he mumbled, unwilling to move and see the younger boy perk up like expected. 

“Did you try the coffee shop I recommended?” Jisung wiggled himself out from behind Woojin and sat up next to his friend, making grabby hands at where he thought the bag was.

“Yeah, yeah, and hands to yourself! I’ll give you your damn food, just wait a second.”

“Oh I hope you got croissants, that Melvin bitch always makes the best ones. I don’t know what he puts in it and I don’t care, no food even holds a candle to fucking  _ bread _ , and this kind’s flaky? The French really knew what they were doing with this one. Oh, I really hope you got those, I might have to cry if you didn’t–”

“Jisung.” Woojin put a palm over his mouth.

“Mmph?”

“It is eight o’clock. In the morning. Please, for the of all that is good and holy,  _ stop talking _ .” He wanted to listen, he really did, but everything has its time and place; sometime around September, Woojin started feeling like he was floating somewhere where neither even existed.

Worry gnawed at the back of Woojin’s head, a faint throbbing sensation asking him ten million questions he couldn’t answer; Jisung wouldn’t be offended, right? Did he know how much Woojin loved him? Did he show that often enough? He never meant to be so rude but what if this was the straw that broke the camel’s back? Maybe he should say it more often, he couldn’t risk not having made it obvious enough for the dense squirrel boy, and he could never say “I love you” too many times. What if Jisung was really hurt by his words? 

“...Mmph.” Never mind.

Taking away his hand to avoid being licked (it was Jisung, the boy was a spitting image of the sitcom-perfect younger sibling – anything could happen), Woojin rummaged through his paper bag and found two smaller pastry bags, the Chan’s Kitchen logo stamped on their sides. He handed one over to his younger friend, the boy positively vibrating with excitement. “The angel man wasn’t named Melvin, but I don’t know if he was the one who makes these, so you’ll have to tell me if they’re any good.” A proper disclaimer, one would hope. Woojin opened his bag, not registering what he had said for a few seconds and choking on his bread.

Jisung raised his eyebrows as he peeled away layers of the croissant rather than biting into it like a normal person; having managed to limit the (visible) trembling to just his unseeing eyes, he continued on. “Angel man?”

“Look, I have eyes, if you were there you’d understand too.”

“Woojin, I’m blind, I literally wouldn’t–”

“You know what I mean!”

Jisung giggled, the sparking mirth in his eyes on full display since he didn’t need his sunglasses inside. “All I’m saying is that I’m sure he’s not a whole angel. Tell you what, I bet he has a daddy kink. That’s my best guess,” he continued, oblivious to Woojin’s ongoing struggle with his pastry. “No one can reach those fucking impossible standards of yours and still be any kind of normal. Did you get his number? Oh, this is a really good fucking croissant! I’m gonna write a whole song about these, they deserve it. Ode to Melvin, how about it?” With that, Jisung was the first of the pair to forget about his own question, and launched into a tirade about how Melvin’s eyes were  _ “black as daffodils and coal, but not like his soul _ ,” hummed to something that sounded suspiciously like Brittany Spears. Woojin couldn’t forget the pressing issue though, a grimace making a home on his face.

He didn’t get angel man’s fucking phone number.

Interrupting Jisung, now waxing poetic about a dog that was decidedly not Melvin the Great, a new voice screeched out a high-pitched “Woojin!” and barreled straight for the man. Before gripping his beloved coffee so the newcomer couldn’t knock it off the table, he stood up wordlessly and dragged Jisung by the arm to his other side as a concentrated mass of brown hair and jeans slammed into his arm. “Woojin, I’m being chased by a monster! He’s so ugly, get him away!”

“I’d willingly throw you to the sharks for a moment of peace, child dearest.” Woojin handed Seungmin a pastry bag and scooted him across the bench to sit by Jisung, who somehow found another subject for his never-ending song. Seungmin shoved his croissant into his mouth and started messing with the other’s pink-blonde hair, pulling as much of his fringe as possible into one hand before letting it flop back onto his face. Woojin sat back down, sighing for a moment before hearing a third shrill call of his name join the chorus of taunts and Pachelbel’s Canon in Screams. It was ok. He was used to this. Woojin was calm, as he always was.

“Hyunjin, if you don’t shut your goddamn mouth and eat your breakfast I can and will break your arms.” Or maybe he wasn’t as calm as he thought.

“Jesus fucking Christ- man, what’s got your panties in a twist?” The group’s newest arrival was quick to bite the croissant, grabbing it as it was handed to him. He leaned over Woojin to pinch Seungmin’s shoulder, the youngest’s shout of pain garnering more than a few dirty looks from the rest of the class. The eldest of their group let out a long suffering sigh before sending a glare in both Seungmin and Hyunjin’s directions. A silent order to stop talking or suffer the consequences. 

“Alright, you got it chief, shutting up right now!” Woojin shrugged off the boy’s mock salute and just pushed Hyunjin’s croissant back towards his mouth.

“Jisung, class starts soon. If you don’t want Langenstein to rip your vocal chords out himself, I suggest you pipe down and let the class focus.” Woojin’s voice rang clearly over the cacophony of college chatter and Jisung’s ditty (that miraculously made its way back to Melvin being the subject of his praise) came to an abrupt halt. 

Finally, he could get some peace in the classroom. Professor Langenstein was known for being ten minutes late to the tee every class; the theory teacher had a new story each day, as if his classroom was some omnipotent jury ruling on his fate, rather than the group of tired young adults they were. He was the very picture of inexperienced, but those ten minutes didn’t seem to impact how much Woojin learned in class so he let it go. He had enough to worry about, like Jisung’s question from earlier.

“So Woojin, Jisung says you-”

“Absolutely not, you wrinkly gremlin child, get out of my face. I will answer no questions at the moment, office hours are  _ closed _ .”

Seungmin huffed. “I just wanna know! He said there’s a cute guy involved, so now I’m invested, so spill.” He shoved down the remains of his croissant and stared at him with as much intensity as wide eyes and stuffed cheeks could muster.

“I heard cute guy?” Hyunjin spewed out bits of chewed up bread as he spoke. “Woojin, you have to stop hiding these things! We’re expert matchmakers, we’ll get you your mans,” he swallowed the food and had the decency to look a little embarrassed at Woojin’s disgust.

Jisung reached around for the eldest, latching onto him when he finally found the man. “You never answered my question, father mine; did you get the guy’s number?”

Woojin stayed silent. There was no escaping this.

Another screech sounded right by his ear. “You useless gay! You didn’t get his goddamn number, I’ll kill you, you idiot!”

Woojin gritted his teeth, quietly screaming into his mouth before setting Jisung aside. “Calm down kid, people are staring. All of you, finish your food and then we’ll talk.” 

Maybe he could pretend he didn’t know any of them once this class was over. He could run away to Venezuela and live the rest of his days as a lonely singing shepherd who couldn’t speak the language, never to be bothered again. It would be so peaceful: no loud children bickering over his every word, no stress from school or his parents to graduate and start a proper career, no coffee shop angel to keep his thoughts wandering...

Sadly, he didn’t have the funds for a plane ride down to Venezuela, so in Boston he would have to stay.

Finally tuning back in to reality, Woojin found his three kids stock-still and staring intently at him, croissants missing and coffee placed within his arm’s reach. He let a grin slip onto his face and ruffled Jisung’s hair, letting them know he wasn’t really angry with them. 

“Y’know,” Woojin tapped his chin in mock-thought, amused as the trio held onto his every word. “The guy did say something about checking my napkins. I wonder what that could possibly mean?”

Hyunjin grabbed the bag, a puppy-like enthusiasm emanating from his actions as he reached in and found one of the napkins with a number on it. “You sly dog! You cunning knave, you clever fox, you! You really did get his number, props to you! You’re a useful gay after all!”

“The old number-on-the-napkin trick eh?” Jisung chimed in, not even a moment’s hesitation obstructing his own interpretation of whatever the hell Hyunjin was going for. “Does the charm every time, doesn’t it old boy? Jolly fucking good, then!”

Seungmin, who had taken it upon himself to steal Woojin’s phone and enter the number into a new contact, practically threw the phone at the eldest again. “Call him after class, it’s the only way you’ll get your mans, my guy.” And with that mildly incorrect statement he dropped back into his seat and pulled Jisung into a lasting hug, notes at the ready if Langenstein ever decided to start teaching more than the adventures of his childhood.

Hyunjin gave Woojin the most pitiful puppy dog eyes he’d ever seen before turning his back to the group. He tugged out his laptop and started typing, likely finishing an essay for his childhood development class. Jisung nodded off on Seungmin’s shoulder, mumbling complaints about how it was highly uncomfortable and how the youngest should invest in some shoulder pillows (“Like shoulder pads but soft and comfy, you feel me, bro?”) and snacks. Soon enough it felt like that strange morning had never happened as Langenstein walked in with a new tale spun about helping a stray kitten out of traffic and having to take it to a shelter. Really, he didn’t need an excuse each time, but it was entertaining to hear nonetheless.

Woojin glanced down at his phone when he was sure no one was looking anymore. The phone number seemed to jump out at him, whispering for him to call the guy, text him, just  _ do it _ . The voice sounded an awful lot like Seungmin but he elected to ignore that.

Satisfied, Woojin changed the contact name to “coffee shop angel” - he’d have called the boy after class anyway, but the kids could think it was their doing. With luck, something good would come from this.

**Author's Note:**

> also see; a summary option from my best friend -  
> woojin. no sleep. head hurting. coffee? cute boi??? you figure out the rest
> 
> personally?? i think it's perfect lol


End file.
